


I Don't Know (I Just Don't Know)

by MagicFish



Series: I Don't Know (The Same Things You Don't Know) [2]
Category: Corner Gas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicFish/pseuds/MagicFish





	I Don't Know (I Just Don't Know)

Hank's home has been being fumigated for two months. At least, the tarps have remained hung around his house and the man himself has continued to be a "temporary" fixture in Brent Leroy's home for that long. As the weeks pass, people stop asking about how the fumigation is going, then they stop teasing Brent about having to put up with his best friend as a roommate, and eventually it seems as if that particular house outside Dog River has always been covered in tarp and the few belongings Hank actually cares about have always had places in Brent's house.

In the time they've lived together, if what they're doing can be called that, Hank has discovered more about his best friend than he has in the decades preceding it. He has a well-developed awareness of Brent's morning and bedtime routines, a respect for Brent's TV preferences, and, especially, a deep, full-bodied need for the times when Brent is above him, hand grasped around their cocks, mouthing what Hank secretly suspects are endearments into his shoulder and against his lips. This, in particular, has left Hank curious--piningly, achingly curious--about what the extended guest-stay is becoming.

So instead of leaning against the Corner Gas counter one afternoon when Brent is busy and there's nothing to fix, Hank perches on the edge of Brent's desk chair and enters an internet search with all the tentative stealth with which he stole cookies from the packet as a child. What he finds is mesmerizing, enticing, and when Brent does come home from the corner shop, it's to find Hank braced against the bathroom sink, hair still wet from the shower, with three well-lubed fingers working his ass and a not-quite-embarrassed but oh-so-needy expression reflected in the mirror.

Brent's hard almost immediately, which is good because Hank has a plan, and that's a pretty important part of it. He sidles up to Brent, and while he tilts his head up to meet a befuddled kiss, unfastens his friend's pants and takes him in hand. There's not quite enough lube, so Hank steps back to allow Brent to awkwardly kick out of his shoes and jeans before he returns with a palm full of baby oil and another, more demanding kiss.

Brent clearly has no idea where this has come from because when Hank pulls away again, his eyes are wide with shock and, Hank is surprised to see, doubt. Hank reminds himself that he has a plan. It's a good plan. All his plans are good plans. Yeah. So he ignores Brent's babbled questions and follows through, turning back around to bend over the sink, his forearm stretched across the mirror for balance.

Something must click then for Brent, because suddenly he is behind Hank and a blunt pressure is breaching his well-stretched hole and everything, all at once, comes to focus on the sensation of being filled and wanted. It takes several short slides back and forth for Brent to be fully inside him, where he--instinctively, maybe--pauses. 

"This alright?" Brent gasps

"I gotta...I gotta know what this is like," Hank admits lamely. It's been eating him up all day, the thought of being like this with Brent. The slide from friendship into intimacy has been so casual and so smooth to this point that some sort of major step seemed not merely natural, but necessary to establish their…ah...

Hank doesn't think "relationship" because it's a big word with a lot of meaning, and because Brent has taken hold of him by the hips and has ventured a slow but firm thrust into him and Hank can't remember what word he was trying for, anyway. Hank moans and forgets to care about that, which makes Brent relax, shift slightly, and thrust in again at a new angle, stimulating a tingle that Hank has been chasing with his fingers all afternoon.

Brent settles in and picks up the pace. It's perfect. A stretching ache is overwhelmed completely by the sensation of Brent's thrusts in Hank and the tightness of his hands on Hank's hips. As he finally thinks to reach for his own cock, Hank looks into the mirror and locks eyes with Brent's reflection. His friend looks utterly changed, heavy-lidded and almost predatory in his ferocious intensity, and Hank thinks he finally understands what Lacey and Wanda were on about that time Brent wore a black shirt to work. As if he's noticed and has decided to confirm Hank's impression, Brent exhales sharply, tightens his grip still further on Hank's hips, and slams into him again and again. The stimulation is relentless. Hank almost forgets that his hand is gripped loosely around his cock until a thrust carries his hips forward against his own palm and he comes and it's like nothing he's ever felt. Climax rips through his whole body as he clamps down around Brent, eliciting a shuddered "A-a-h" as his friend falters and then stills inside him, fingers white-knuckle tight on Hank's hipbones.

The pain of this manhandling washes over Hank in a fresh wave of pleasure, keeping him anchored to consciousness as he slumps, weak and panting, against the cold porcelain sink. He catches his breath as Brent slides gently out of him and rubs soothing circles over his side and lower back. Slowly, gingerly, Hank turns around. This feels like the moment of truth. The moment where either they acknowledge what they've been doing and what they have become or they decide to...not.

Brent kisses him.

"What's gotten into you?" he asks when he pulls away, his hand gripped lightly at the scruff of Hank's neck as if he's afraid that the handyman will take the opportunity to run. Brent's voice is ridiculously conversational for a man with no pants, but Hank doesn't let himself get distracted. 

"I dunno, Brent, I just...it just felt right."

Brent kisses him again. "OK," he smiles. "How about you go ahead and take a shower while I get changed?"

Two showers in one day seems excessive to Hank, but a trickle of cooling cum is working its way down his inner thigh, so he decides it's probably a good idea.


End file.
